In My Grandmother’s Womb Before I Was
Mothers and daughters. As I grow older––moving through years that I previously only ever associated with my mother, casting off ages that will belong to my daughter soon enough––I think about the passage of time and return to the interconnectedness of this matrilineal relationship.
Whether the kinship is affectionate, strained, or lost altogether, there are mysteries bound up in our mother-daughter connections, an amniotic “knowing” that extends back to our first mother. It’s a reminder that when we were in our mother's womb, we shared that space with her. And when she was still forming within her mother, the seeds of our existence were also present there. All down the line. We transmit a rhythm from one generation to the next. Familiar, yet mysterious.
After a recent visit with my 88-year-old mother, I wrote: “In this moment, I re-realize how similar I am to my mom, beyond the physical, beyond what I can even put my hand on.” I can sense the years between us shrinking as we both age. Yes, the actual dates that separate her generation from mine remain the same, but the emotional and spiritual distance contracts. It also expands, enveloping us in that timeless heartbeat, just as it did in the womb.
Even when I try to parse time, classify and categorize it, I note how all of our time coalesces, disrupting my rigid measurements of the celebratory and mundane dates that make up a life. Gratitude for these seasons with my mother overwhelms me and enlarges my heart. Gratitude that she did and continues to do her work so that it's not passed on to her descendants. Gratitude to all of the Black women who’ve invited me into community at different life stages and guided me through my own work so that my daughter doesn’t inherit the task.
I think about these intergenerational legacies and how they’re first communicated in the womb. I’m keenly aware that what we don't heal in us, we pass on to those we birth, impact, or influence. But the womb also provides clues to our promise, continuity, and healing if we recognize and honor that wisdom.
Capitalism, colonialism, and white supremacy have torn at our most essential thread, methodically disconnecting us from our traditional knowledge. Imbalance and dysregulation have become the burdens of our modern matriculation. But I believe there’s a wind blowing through the universe, calling us back home to our origins and the rhythms of the womb.
My hope for all of us is that we listen and become curious about the connection of our beingness. As you think about going to your mother's house, whether physically or energetically, think about your shared lifetimes and the knowledge that has passed between you in that shared womb.
And, remember: even before you were, you were.
QUOTES
Lisa Lackey
“Our cellular life begins in the womb of our grandmother where generations intermingle and interact and integrate. Before we were, we were.”
“We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother's blood before she is born.”
“The womb is held in such high regard in many indigenous cultures. The womb represents the sum total of all possibilities, potentials. It symbolizes abundance; it symbolizes more than enough.”
“We are carriers of our mother's stories, and the grace of life shows us a path to heal what they were unable to.”
“When my mother was in her mother's womb, I shared that room with her. We have a rhythm that is timeless and yet unknown in so many ways.”
“The inheritance that we leave those that we either have birthed through our bodies or other ways of impact and influence will only have the work that is theirs no longer having to carry baggage that is not their own.”
